Just Bros
by ZigZagDot
Summary: Stiles keeps finding Scott and Isaac in compromising positions, but Scott says it's just a bromance; when Isaac is kidnapped by the Argents, what will happen? Stiles's POV. Scisaac with a hint of Sterek.


**A/N: This story is from Stiles's POV, so he is really the main character, but the main pairing is Scisaac. That's why I put Scott and Isaac as the main characters. Still, there isn't very much of Isaac in this story, so I'm sorry about that. I'll be writing way more Scisaac in the future that is more focused on them. Enjoy!**

The first time Stiles noticed something odd was when he and Isaac slept over at Scott's house. This wasn't strange, in theory; he and Scott had sleepovers all the time, and Isaac was a nice guy and all. But when Stiles woke up, Scott and Isaac were no longer tucked into their own separate sleeping bags. No, they were spooning in Scott's bed, so close together that their heads were on the same pillow.

Of course, when Stiles thought about it, he decided it wasn't that weird. After all, if he and Scott had been spooning, it wouldn't have been gay; they were best friends, and Scott and Isaac had gotten a lot closer in the last few months. Stiles couldn't always be there when Scott was moping about Alison, and he knew that sometimes Isaac took on the role of cheerer-upper.

So Stiles helped himself to some fruit loops that were in the McCalls' pantry and forgot about the incident.

A few days later, Stiles was flummoxed again when Isaac walked into chemistry wearing a familiar gray sweatshirt. A sweatshirt he had seen Scott wear countless times; he might have even dubbed that one 'Scott's favorite sweatshirt' if they had been on some reality show where he had to guess which items of clothes were Scott's favorites… not that that situation was likely, but still, Stiles liked to be prepared for everything.

Still, the two instances separately weren't strange. Stiles had borrowed Scott's clothing in the past, and that wasn't weird.

The next incident was definitely questionable, though.

When Scott failed to show up for a weekly study session, Mrs. McCall suggested that Stiles look for him at a fancy seafood restaurant that was definitely out of Scott's price range.

Sure enough, Scott's mom's car was parked out front.

Stiles didn't want to go inside and be creepy, but at the same time he did want to do both of those things. He was curious, okay? So Stiles slipped inside; there was a cue of people waiting to be seated, but at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, he was sure he could see Isaac's curly hair.

Upon being approached by a hostess, Stiles slipped back out the door. Why was Scott at a place like this with Isaac?  
"Dude, what are you doing here?"

Stiles spun around; Scott's voice was not one he had expected to hear _outside_ of the restaurant.

"Looking for you, doofus. We were supposed to study, remember? And why are there leaves in your hair?" Leaves that suspiciously matched a tree a few yards away from where they stood. In fact, near the top of the tree there was a nice window from which the entire restaurant would be visible. Interesting…

Stiles looked up at the tree, then back at Scott. Then back at the tree, and then back at Scott. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Scott slumped forward, "I gave Isaac a ride here because he had a date, and then he was really nervous, so I thought I would stay and help if he needed it."

Stiles could have sworn that Scott's cheeks were pinker than usual. "So let me get this straight- Isaac asked you to spy on his date? Who is he here with, anyway?"

Yep, Scott was definitely blushing. "Erica." Stiles noted that he chose to ignore the first question. "She asked me the other week if I thought he liked her, and I said probably, because you have to admit, she's really hot, so she said she was going to ask him out, and I said cool, but Isaac doesn't have a car, you know, and Erica doesn't either, and she said that Boyd could give her a ride here, but it would have been awkward if Boyd picked up Erica and Isaac, it would have been like they were in middle school and their parents were driving them somewhere, so I said I'd drive Isaac. And that's what happened."

Scott took a deep breath and looked pretty pleased with himself, but Stiles wasn't done with him yet. "Alright." He clapped Scott on the back. "So are you ready to go study now?"

Scott fidgeted.

"I mean, Isaac's already here, so it doesn't seem like he needs you to take him anywhere."

"Right, well, I figured I could stay here to take him home, or back to my place, or whatever, because he's been staying there most nights."

"Right." Stiles nodded.

"Right." Scott bit his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Stiles heaved a sigh and grabbed Scott's elbow. "Come with me. No, don't run away, I promise we'll come back in a second. Yeesh."

After a bit more tugging, Stiles was driving away with Scott sitting in the front seat of his car. After driving for a few minutes, he parallel parked on a crowded street and turned to Scott.

"Dude, why are we here?"

"Tell me, is there any way that Isaac can hear us right now?"

Scott shrugged. "His senses would have to be alot stronger than mine. Why?"

"Because if he hears this it might make things awkward." Stiles took a deep breath. "Is there something going on between the two of you?"

For the first time that afternoon, Scott's facial expression turned back to its default setting: adorably confused. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on," said Stiles. "You guys were all cuddly at our sleepover, and then he was wearing your clothes, and now you're stalking him on his date."

Scott still looked baffled. "Yeah, well, Isaac and I are bros, you know? Haven't you heard the word bromance? And at the sleepover he was having nightmares and stuff, and I wasn't going to make him sleep on the floor. No big deal."

"You and I are bros too, and I've never stalked you on a date with Alison."

Stiles immediately felt ashamed for mentioning Alison, who Scott was still sore about. They had ended things on terrible terms, with Alison landing an arrow in Scott's shoulder. Stiles didn't see how she could blame Scott for being a werewolf, but people did the weirdest things.

Stiles expected Scott to get all pouty at the mention of Alison's name, but he didn't look like it fazed him at all. "Dude, that was different. Isaac hasn't really ever dated anyone, and he's nervous, and I'm one of his only friends."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, and Scott sighed. "If you want to know the truth, I just don't trust Erica."

Stiles thought about Erica; yeah, he understood why Scott was being precautious. Erica was scary to say the least, and Isaac was kind of emotionally damaged.

"Alright." He put the car into drive. "Sorry for interrogating you, or whatever. But you know it wouldn't matter, right? If you and Isaac were a thing?"

"Of course, man. We're just bros though, I swear."

Stiles didn't want to be all girly, but he was kind of embarrassed about the way he'd accosted Scott, and he decided sappiness was the only way he could save himself now. "I just feel like I don't even know what's going on with you anymore, and I get kind of worried about everything, with what's happened…" Though he'd gotten away with mentioning Alison's name earlier, he realized that he'd better not push his luck twice.

"Dude, don't worry. You're still my best pal." Scott slapped him on the shoulder, and they drove back to the restaurant.

Stiles forgot about his suspicions for the next few days; he had a life too, you know, and it mostly involved avoiding people who scared the hell out of him, like Mr. Harris and Alison.

Not in that order, though, because when it came to likeliness of who was going to kill him first, Alison was beating Mr. Harris 60/40 at this point. Especially after she slammed him against a locker and ordered him to give Scott a message.

Stiles didn't mind that Isaac and Scott hung out constantly, but he would have not minded even more if they would stand near him while doing it, because he felt a lot safer from insane, bow-and-arrow-wielding girls when he was surrounded by werewolves. Not necessarily because the werewolves would protect Stiles, but because they were more desirable targets than him. Not that Alison was still trying to kill Scott, but who knows?

Still, he accepted his duty as messenger before Alison could give him any more bruises, and he marched off to Scott's house.

Stiles picked up one of Scott's lacrosse balls and tossed it into the air a few times. The shower was running, but Scott liked short showers, so Stiles figured he wouldn't have to wait long.

Now that he thought about it, it really wasn't any weirder for Scott to spy on Isaac's date than it was for Stiles to climb into Scott's bedroom through a window, like he had done a few minutes ago. Maybe Stiles did strange things like that, but it didn't mean that he was interested in Scott in _that _way. No, the idea was laughable. It wasn't that Scott wasn't an attractive guy, or whatever, but even if Stiles had been interested in guys, he was way more into the rugged, broody type. Not that he was generally interested in guys, but if he was…

Besides, Isaac had had a difficult life, and Scott was a caring sort of person. Yeah, their friendship was definitely a good idea. Stiles would never forget the way Scott had helped him when his mom died, so he knew that Scott was the perfect person to have around in tough times.

Stiles sighed and glanced at his phone; almost fifteen minutes had passed. He started throwing the lacrosse ball a little higher, but he was careful not to hit the ceiling because those balls are pretty hard and Mrs. McCall wouldn't be happy if there was a dent.

Lots of Isaac's things were strewn around Scott's room, and Stiles determined that this was a good thing, especially for Isaac. He was a good guy, really, and Stiles liked him, and it was nice that he and Scott had this bromance thing going on.

If Stiles had been a werewolf, he would have heard the shower stop. In fact, he probably would have known that there were two people in the bathroom in the first place, and therefore when Scott and Isaac walked out, with identical towels hung low on their hips, Stiles wouldn't have been so surprised that not only did the lacrosse ball bounce against the ceiling, it flew back before he could think about it and smacked him in the nose.

Stiles woke up in a hospital bed and opened his eyes to find Derek staring down at him. He would have shrieked, but he had more pressing things to do.

"Dude, is it normal for two straight males to want to shower together?"

His voice was nasally and his whole face throbbed when he talked, but the question sounded clear enough to his ears, so he rolled his eyes when Derek straightened up and said gasped. "What?" Stiles was sure that Derek's voice was two octaves higher than earlier.

"Yeah, it's a weird question," Stiles admitted. "But Scott and Isaac were showering together! And not in the locker room, either, because yeah, that would be kind of normal. They were in Scott's bathroom."

The look on Derek's sexy face was slightly less scandalized. "Oh. Scott and Isaac. Right."

Stiles would have frowned, but his face hurt enough as it was, and he knew for a fact that frowning uses more muscles than smiling. "Who did you think I was talking about? Didn't they tell you why I'm in here?"

Derek stands up. "Never mind. I'm going to get a nurse."

Stiles frowns at his back as the door shuts. He doesn't know why Derek has been even more secretive than usual lately, but he doesn't like it one bit. Sometimes he gets the feeling that Derek's goal in life is to spend as little amount of time with Stiles as possible without offending Scott, and the incident that just occurred is just fuel to Stiles's confused fire of sad thoughts. It's not that he wants to spend all of his time with Derek because frankly, the dude's terrifying, but could he at least be slightly less moody?

Stiles's stomach is grumbling, and he checks the clock to see how long he's been asleep. It's almost seven, so that means four hours. He winces, and even that hurts; he wonders if there's a more embarrassing way to get injured than throwing a ball into the air and having it fall on your face.

The door squeaked open, and a nurse slips in. "Mr. Stilinski, your friend told me that you woke up. How are you feeling?"

He and the nurse talked for a few minutes; he was relieved that no one seemed to have called his dad, but he was less happy that his nose was broken.

When the nurse left, Scott entered the room. "You're awake."

"Yep."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then they both opened their mouths to talk at the same time. "You go first," said Stiles.

"It's cool, I can wait." Scott folded his arms over his chest.

Stiles pressed his lips together and mimed zipping them shut.

They were both very stubborn for the ten seconds it took for Scott to break. "Fine. I just wanted to say that what you saw wasn't what it looked like."

Stiles pouted. "You could have at least asked me how I'm feeling first."

"Sorry." Scott looked guilty.

Stiles sniffed and looked up. "Well, it's not your fault. Even though it wouldn't have happened if you weren't cuddling in the shower with Isaac."

"Dude, we were not cuddling. We didn't even touch! I mean, except when I washed his hair, but still. That doesn't even count."

Stiles flailed at his sheets trying to sit up at the ludicrousness of Scott's words. After successfully pulling himself into an upright position, he realized that his indignation was kind of pointless and laid back down. "Okay dude, whatever you say." He closed his eyes and touched the bandage over his nose. "If you and Isaac are just friends, or whatever, you don't have to defend yourselves to me. Though you could have used your werewolf super speed to catch that ball before it hit me in the nose."

"Yeah." Scott looked sheepish. "I was kind of slow on that one."

Stiles shrugged. "The nurse says they might release me today. They won't know for sure if I need surgery until the x-rays come back."

Now Scott looked just plain guilty, and Stiles felt a bit smug. It served him right for walking out of the bathroom with Isaac like that and shocking Stiles.

Except… it was Scott's own bathroom… and he didn't know that Stiles was there… and Stiles wasn't supposed to be there in the first place… and now Stiles felt bad. "Look, they said I probably wouldn't. Need surgery, I mean."

Scott nodded, and Stiles remembered the reason he was in Scott's room in the first place. "There's a reason I came over." He fished around in his pocket. "Alison told me to give this to you. She made me swear upon my life not to open it."

Scott peeled the tape off the mini envelope and opened the seal. Stiles rolled his eyes; who thought it was necessary to tape _and _seal an envelope? Seriously, if someone hypothetically only wanted one person to see a note, she should have given it to him in person instead of scaring his best friend into doing it for her. And if she hypothetically wrote something that hypothetically scared the shit out of the person she wrote the letter to, she should have hypothetically run away really fast.

Because if the look on Scott's face as he read the letter was any indication of how he felt, Alison's little crossbow would be snapped in half before she could utter another threatening word.

"What does it say and why are you doing that creepy eye thingy and why did you just tear the letter in half?"

But Scott's fangs were already out, and before Stiles could say, "We're on the fourth floor," a few window panes were shattered and Scott was nowhere to be seen.

Stiles sighed and did the only thing he could think of doing, since he was drowsy from the pain medication, and called Derek.

"What?" snapped the alpha.

"Scott just jumped out the window and ran off somewhere."

There's a long pause. "I'll be right there."

Stiles hung up, as the door to his room opened. "You weren't kidding."

"What?" Derek glowered at him as usual.

"Never mind. Scott read a note from Alison and then ripped it up. Those are the pieces."

Stiles enjoyed sitting for once while Derek did the research. Despite Derek's apparent physical superiority, Stiles had saved the guy's life a disproportionate number of times, and he figured it was time for Derek to do some of the heavy lifting. Also, he was still kind of dizzy.

Derek seemed to have finished putting the scraps of paper together and was kneeling on the floor looking at his work. "I have to go."

"I'm totally coming."

"You're not coming."

"If you don't let me come, I'll jump out the window and you'll feel guilty about it for the rest of your life."

It was pretty obvious that Stiles wouldn't do any such thing, and he wasn't sure whether Derek would be bothered if he did, but miraculously his scheme worked. "Get your shoes on, quickly." Derek stood up, and his eyes flashed red. "Scott and Isaac are in trouble."

Stiles examined his reflection in the vanity mirror of the passenger seat of Derek's car. He wouldn't normally describe himself as dashing, or any similar adjective for that matter, but he also wouldn't say that he was difficult to look at; however, at the moment his face was nothing short of terrifying. It was like a swollen, oozing, purple blob, and having a mouth only made him look more terrifying. It was like it weren't meant to be there.

"Now I know why you ran away so quickly earlier." He clenched the muscles of his right eye to try to make it open, even just a little, but nothing happened except for a searing pain across the bridge of his nose.

"It's hard to believe that one hit with a lacrosse ball would cause that much damage. You need to be more careful." Derek was doing some more glowering.

"Those balls are hard! And heavy! And yeah, I'm unlucky and it hit in exactly the worst way possible. Though I suppose that isn't true, because people have died from getting hit with lacrosse balls, so that means I could have been hit in a worse way. Unless somehow it's just killing me really slowly, in which case I was right in the first place about it being the worst way I could hit myself. So when are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Derek glares at the road.

"No, seriously, tell me."

Derek continues to glare.

"If you don't say something I'll take my bandage off and bleed all over your car."

"Fine," says Derek. "What is with you and the threats? Apparently Isaac is being held prisoner at Alison's house. The letter warned Scott of what her father was planning, but since they were planning on taking Isaac a few hours ago, Scott didn't read it in time to prevent anything from happening."

"So we're going to Alison's house?"

"Obviously." Derek grits his teeth.

"Right. That was actually kind of nice of Alison, you know. To send a warning."

They drive in silence, with Stiles glancing at Derek's biceps. He doesn't really get Scott's attraction to Isaac; the guy is good looking, and everything, but Stiles doesn't feel… well…_ sexual_ when he thinks about him. When he looks at Derek, on the other hand, he can sort of see how Scott would be attracted to a guy.

Possibly.

Maybe.

Or maybe not! Who knew? Not Stiles!

Seriously though, Scott was in love with Isaac. Pretty soon they would be sleeping together and showering together and buying presents for each other on Valentine's Day… oh right, they already did all of those things. Except Valentine's Day wasn't for a few months, so not that part.

"Stay in the car." Derek hopped out. They were still a few streets away from the Argents' house.

"What's your plan?" Stiles asked, but the door was already slamming. He sighed. The Alpha may have thought that he could just run inside, grab Scott and Isaac, and get out of there, but Stiles knew it wouldn't be that easy. Derek would totally be captured, and then all three of them would be locked up.

He hopped across the console into the driver's seat and put the car into drive. As usual, he would be saving the day.

Stiles's plan was maybe a little more gruesome and even less likely to succeed than usual, but he figured it was worth a shot. First it involved removing his bandages; luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) for him, there was enough blood on his swollen face to make his plan work.

There was also a very realistic blonde wig in the trunk, which would make his scheme easier. Stiles decided he would have to ask Derek about that later.

He slipped the wig over his head, smeared the blood over his face a bit more to make himself unrecognizable, and ran to the Argents' front door. There had been some kind of towel in the trunk as well, so he pressed that over the less bruised side of his face as he pounded on the Argents' front door. "Help!"

Alison's mom wrenched the door open. "What's going on?" She gave him her icy stare of death, but he just stumbled over her doorstep, pushing past her and into the living room. "Some kind of werewolf people just attacked me! P-p-please, you have to help me, they told me to come here and tell you they would kill people if you didn't… if you didn't…" Stiles stumbled over to the couch, wincing. Well, he definitely wouldn't be winning an Oscar any time soon. He didn't want to push his luck and be recognized if Alison came in, so he pressed his face into a white throw pillow. Yep, that was definitely destroyed.

"What's going on?"

Just in time, he thought. That was definitely Alison's voice.

"This boy was sent by the other members of the pack to threaten us." Yeesh, why did her mom's voice have to be so cold and creepy?

"Right." Alison didn't sound convinced, and Stiles winced. "Yeah, you know, his outfit looks familiar to me."

Nope, there had never been a chance of this working. Mrs. Argent might not recognize him, but Alison sure would. He had been wearing the exact same clothing when she accosted him.

"Maybe he's someone I go to school with. Dad and I should go check out the situation." He heard feet clicking their way out of the room. Yes! So Alison _was _on their side, sort of. She was still evil in his opinion, though. And that meant that he still had her mom to deal with. Her apparently very gullible mom. Oh well, he had always wanted to utilize plan B.

Half-an-hour passed before Alison and her dad left. Stiles wondered why they had to take so long when pedestrians were being threatened. It didn't help that pressing his face into the pillow was getting kind of uncomfortable. It wasn't a breathable fabric, and his face was gooey and tender to begin with.

Finally, when he heard the snap of the door shutting, he moved his face slightly so that he could see the living room out of his good eye. Where was Mrs. Argent lurking? He slid his hand into his pocket to prepare.

"Hello?" the house was silent. "Where am I?"

He heard a voice from down stairs, and he figured that he couldn't wait around forever.

He tiptoed toward the noise; thankfully, he had snuck out of his own house enough times to know the best places to step on wooden floorboards so they wouldn't groan and alert anyone to his presence.

Stiles knew that something was not right because if they thought he was telling the truth, why hadn't they helped him at all? He was just oozing blood onto their expensive furniture.

And if they thought he was lying, why hadn't they kicked him out? Or killed him, for that matter?

None of it made sense, but he was willing to ignore that for the time being. He didn't know his way around the Argents' house, but he did unfortunately know where the cellar was, and he was sure that Derek, Scott, and Isaac were being held there.

He shook his head; really, though, he would have to give them instruction manuals on How to Not Get Caught and How to Have a Plan and how to do other stuff that people who practically have superpowers should just naturally be able to do. Werewolfiness was wasted on them.

Luckily, Stiles was the man with the plan, and he was armed with balls that could be in the Guinness Book of World Records, if he did say so himself. He also had the lacrosse ball that had previously broken his nose, and although he felt kind of nostalgic about the whole incident by now, he was willing to never see that damn ball again.

He crept toward the kitchen, where there was a fairly large screen door and a decidedly-not-creaky linoleum floor, and he stood about ten feet away from the door. This would, hopefully, be very loud. And expensive to repair.

Stiles covered his hand with is eyes, just in case, and threw the ball as hard as he could against the glass. There was a bang loud enough to wake up the neighbors, but nothing shattered, and as Stiles uncovered his eyes to see what had happened, the ball slammed into him for the second time that day. It hit him in the lower stomach, and though he doubled over, gasping for breath, he realized that if it had connected a few inches lower he would be much sorrier.

So, the window was fake glass. That was cool.

He heard the creak of stairs as someone started to walk up from the cellar, and he snatched up the lacrosse ball and slipped into the alcove behind the refrigerator. It was probably the worst hiding spot of all time. He hoped the people coming upstairs weren't hungry.

"It sounded like someone fired a shot at this window." Mrs. Argent and Gerard walked in. "That means they're armed. Alison didn't answer her phone when I tried to call."

"I'll go," Gerard said. "I've been itching to fire one of these at those pesky betas."

Stiles peaked around the fridge to see the old man holding a massive gun.

"Be careful. They may have already killed the others." Mrs. Argent clips into the living room. "There was a boy here, but he's gone. I'll have to search around the house for him."

Yep, something weird was going on here. He didn't know what was happening, but Mrs. Argent definitely did not have her shit together. Gerard slid out the front door, and after she had re-locked it behind him, Stiles knew what he had to do.

It was time to get his hands dirty. Or his lacrosse ball, anyway. Not that it wasn't already dirty enough, with blood all over it and stuff. Still, he didn't feel any guilt at all as he lifted his arm and chucked the ball as hard as he could at Mrs. Argent's head.

"Hah!" he said as the ball hit its target and she crumpled to the ground. "I should have played baseball instead."

He ran over and picked up the ball, and then grasped Mrs. Argent under the arms and dragged her toward the living room. Damn, those lacrosse balls really were heavy; she was out like a… light bulb? Or something.

Stiles hoped he hadn't permanently injured her because then Alison would _really _kill him. She would kill him even more than she would already have killed him. Or maybe she would just kill him in a more painful way.

Anyway, it made him more motivated to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. He hurried to the door of the cellar and started to creep down. The Argents probably had some goons down there to guard everyone, but Stiles was out of plans, so tiptoeing and hoping that no one could hear him was his only option.

He could definitely hear voices, and he stopped descending to listen in. Was that Scott talking?

"You guys, I don't think the sleeping pills will work," it said. "I think she'll kill us before she passes out."

"Yeah." Stiles thought it might have been Isaac's voice. "Do you think Alison will get back together with you if the plan does work?"

Stiles heard a sigh. "No way, man, I'm not into her at all anymore. I mean, I'm still kind of sad about it, but it totally never would have worked, you know?"

There was silence, and Stiles stepped down another step. He was hoping that any guards down there would expose themselves soon.

"Scott," said Isaac. "Since we're probably going to die anyway, I have to tell you something."

_Ooh, _Stiles thought. _This could get good._

"What is it?"

Isaac took a deep breath. "This month has been the best month of my life. You know, sleeping with you and hanging out with you all the time. I don't want to ruin our friendship or anything, but I'm totally in love with you, bro."

"Seriously?" gasped Scott.

"I hope you don't hate me for it, but I can't keep it from you anymore."

"Dude." The clinking noise of chains bumping against each other sounded. "I'm in love with you too."

"Damn it, will you two get a room?" Yes! So Derek was there too. And he was conscious. "Or will you wait until you can?"

Stiles stepped down two more steps until he was able to peep around the wall that blocked his view of the rest of the cellar. Nope, no guards.

"Hah!" He leapt down the rest of the stairs, and Scott and Isaac stopped trying to move the chains around so that they could touch each other. "I knew it! I told you, didn't I, Scott? I totally knew all along."

"Yeah, yeah." Scott glowers at him. "Will you unlock these, or something? And why are you even here?"

"That's all the thanks I get for saving your lives? Seriously?" Stiles moves to unlock Derek's chains first. "You'll have to be my best friend now that Scott's going to be all lovey-dovey with Isaac."

When Derek's hands were free, he shrugged. "Weirder things have happened." He glanced at Isaac and Scott, who were gazing into each other's eyes. "Like that."

"Aww, I think it's cute." Stiles turned to Isaac's chains next. "But seriously, guys, we've got to get out of here before Alison's mom wakes up. I kind of hit her in the head with a lacrosse ball."

They all looked at him, and he wasn't even sure who said, "What?" Maybe all of them.

"Well, how do you think I got down here? I had to do something."

"Oh no." Scott's chains fell away. "Dude, Alison's mom was supposed to peacefully pass out. Alison drugged her and Gerard with sleeping pills."

Stiles nodded. Sleeping pills would explain a lot.

"Damn, Alison's going to murder us when she finds out!"

Stiles sighs. Will he ever be appreciated? "Alright then, let's get out of here while we can. I'm going to need a ride back to the hospital."

When Stiles is officially released with confirmation that his face will return to normal within a few weeks, he finds Derek looking broody in the waiting room. "Where the hell is Scott?"

Derek shrugs and stands up. "He and Isaac ran off somewhere. I didn't ask what they were doing."

Stiles wouldn't have either. No, that's not true; he totally would have, and then he would have harassed them about it for a while. He and Derek walk to the elevator. "Alright, are you taking me home then?" His watch told him that his dad would be home in less than half-an-hour, and his face would be enough to explain; Stiles didn't want to make up an excuse for being late as well.

"Of course." Derek frowns at him. "What are you going to tell you father about your face?"

"The truth- that Scott and Isaac walked out of the shower together, and I accidentally hit myself in the face with a lacrosse ball."

"You know, I have to agree with you." The elevator opens. "It took them a really long time to get it."

"Yeah," Stiles says, shaking his head. "Totally clueless."

As Stiles walks to Derek's car, he decides that Derek might be a good BFF after all.


End file.
